


you & me (feat. feelings)

by dhils



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, YouTube, dylan larkin: chaotic beer league youtuber, zach is still zach!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhils/pseuds/dhils
Summary: seth🤪🤙 - 12m agoplease tell me you’ve seen thishttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQqufD2xsBE(The link sends Zach straight to a video titledgopro hockey // THE BOYS ARE BACK AT IT)





	you & me (feat. feelings)

**Author's Note:**

> this was such a trip to write especially because i wrote this out in like??? a day??? unlawful. 
> 
> huge huge thanks to rachel for cheerleading this on, i couldn't have ever done it w/o her!!! i adore u v much!

It starts with a text, bright and early when the birds are still out chirping and Zach can barely open his eyes against the grey light bleeding into his room. His alarm clock isn’t set to go off for another five minutes, but he’s got the willpower to stomp down that initial urge to bury himself back in bed. Mostly because of the text sitting on his home screen. 

**seth🤪🤙 - 12m ago**  
please tell me you’ve seen this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQqufD2xsBE

Right off the bat, Zach’s thinking Seth’s sending him a meme or something, because the last time he’d gotten a YouTube link from him it was probably a twenty minute vine compilation he fully refused to watch but ended up getting sucked into anyways. He nearly considers leaving Seth on read, but the link is there and all he has to do is click it.

So, yeah, he clicks it. 

It sends him straight to the YouTube app where a video pops up titled _gopro hockey // THE BOYS ARE BACK AT IT_ and immediately Zach’s underwhelmed. 

Watching other guys play hockey when he does it for a living would probably get old pretty quickly, but he doesn’t do it often enough to complain, so he lets the five second ad before the video run and braces himself for whatever he’s supposed to be oh-so blown away by. 

The video starts with a low beat and a couple guys skating onto the ice, wearing what look a little like beer league jerseys and that gets a smile out of Zach. He scrubs past that to get to the actual video, which is where it really starts.

The guy with the GoPro hollers, “Swiss cheese d,” as he dekes around the other team’s defense, which goes down impressively enough. Like, whoever this is has hands, and he’s proving that no less than a good minute into the video when he tops off his dangles with a goal that strikes right in off the post. Show off.

Zach’s still got his eyes focused on the screen, but he’s looking more at the actual poster’s channel name rather than whatever’s happening on ice. The video belongs to a guy named _DBoss_ and Zach’s having a lot of trouble not snickering at that because, seriously, how old is this kid. 

In a matter of moments, he’s pulled right back to the video when DBoss lingers near one the defensemen from before. “I’d feel bad for you if you didn’t stay up late watching Jackets highlights with your mom,” he calls out, skating up to centre ice for face off. 

“You got it all wrong, bud,” the defensemen throws back, “I’m up with _your_ mom.”

And Zach would probably snort if he wasn’t trying to plaster down the smile that tugs on his lips at the Blue Jackets chirp. He decides not to skim through the rest of the video, because this might just be what Seth was trying to get him to see, and it only gets better. 

“How’s it feel having Werenski as a personal trainer,” DBoss says to a different d-man when he tips a pass to one of his teammates, who knocks it in past the goalie nice and easy. 

Which. That was a namedrop. Zach really can’t help but laugh this time.

The d-man hip checks him, it’s almost fond, but Zach might just be reading it wrong. Or it could be the grin on his face that’s setting him off. “How’d my fist in your face feel?”

“Oh, do it to me,” DBoss laughs out, and skates off.

It happens again when the video cuts to him on the bench, where someone calls him Larks as he’s squirting purple gatorade into his mouth. “Scoring’s not looking too good out there,” his teammate says. He’s got a missing tooth, Zach realizes, when he smiles wide. 

“Almost as bad as the D, eh.” All Zach can see from the GoPro’s perspective is DBoss—Larks, apparently—jerking his finger down at the defensive zone where his teammates are lazily sliding passes around the house. “Doesn’t make for good footage when the defense is weak. No wonder Jackets attendance is at an all time low.“

His teammate barks out a laugh and bumps his glove before the video jumps to Larks back on the ice. 

It’s 3 more minutes before the video ends, and those 3 minutes includes Larks all but crooning _Werenski_ at the same guy he’d slammed earlier and assisting another goal for a final score of 3-0. 

Zach heads back to Seth’s messages instead of watching through the handshake line. He isn’t even sure how to respond to that. 

**zach - 2m ago**  
okay but how was i a better target than butter fingers seth jones??

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
i think its impressive that it took the world this long to finally realize it 

**zach - now**  
ur the worst

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
watch the rest of his videos, he hates u and it shows

 **zach - now**  
thanks for specifically looking for youtubers that hate me 

**seth🤪🤙 - now**  
youre just mad i have more twitter followers than you

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
I MEAN SO DOES DBOSS LMAO it’s not that hard:)

 

 

The Jackets fly out to Florida right before the week ends and Zach gets a pretty healthy dosage of chirps from Seth on the plane when he catches Zach watching something he says looks like a dollar store version of Friends. 

Seth steals his phone right out of his hands and goes straight to YouTube, typing something in. Zach can’t see what Seth’s typing out because he refuses to let him catch even the slightest peek at the screen. Then, the clicking of the keyboard Zach hears in his AirPods immediately jumps to, “Alright boys, we’re back on this bullshit with another challenge video _and_ a regular upload schedule. I’m coming for everyone’s brand.”

Zach almost thinks he recognizes the voice and then he gets his phone handed back to him and he _knows_ he recognizes the voice. It’s attached to a face he definitely isn’t familiar with, a boy with a really pretty smile and bright, bright eyes. He’s outside, presumably his backyard, when he goes on to explain what sounds like a shooting centric challenge.

The video’s title is _NHL 19 pack discard challenge_ and Zach doesn’t know what half those words mean, but he doesn’t really care because the channel name’s right there and of fucking course it’s DBoss—Larks, whatever.

“This guy again?” He asks Seth, and he tries to sound at least slightly unimpressed, but onscreen Larks is sniping shots into a net in his backyard and _wow_. Kind of rude. 

“You’ve watched, like, one of his videos,” Seth protests insistently, looking down at the screen even if he can’t hear a word of it without Zach’s other AirPod. “Plus, this one’s intense. It gets really good.”

“Does he almost lose a game of ‘chel? Tragic, get him a grammy,” Zach says uselessly, because he’s a little into this. It definitely shows on his face, since Seth calmly settles back into his seat. He clearly doesn’t have very many fucks to spare and that one hurts.

Zach watches the video with rapt attention, chuckling to himself whenever Larks makes a quip about his shot or blames a missed target on the sun in his eyes. He’s even got a dog, who excitedly runs on screen at some point and starts pawing at the blade of his stick. 

Zach probably shouldn’t find it the most endearing thing in the world when the camera zooms in on Larks crouching down to pet his dog while getting slobbered on, but he’s laughing and, really, who gave him the right. Larks tosses a puck out to his lawn just to get the place to himself again, and says, “can you guys believe Riley’s better at keeping the puck away from me than Werenski ever would be?” 

He’s got little things about him that Zach can’t help but notice, like when he licks just the corner of his lips, or how his eyes crinkle everytime he smiles, or that fact that he keeps coming for the Jackets even if he very clearly lives in Columbus. 

Zach’s about to turn and ask Seth about it because he’s definitely his number one fan at this point, but then the film cuts to what looks like Larks’ gaming area where he’s got a couple Red Wings jerseys pinned up on the walls and, yeah. That explains it.

Seth doesn’t mention it when Zach watches the video all the way through just to click onto _3v3 roller hockey // choking leads like the Rangers_ , so he doesn’t say anything about it either.

 

 

Larks’ comment section would probably be the best part of his videos if it wasn’t for his face. Zach ends up watching his challenge videos a lot more than the GoPro ones, just because he actually gets to see him. He tells himself it’s because the GoPro videos go a little rougher on the Jackets, but he knows he’s lying to himself. 

_All_ his videos go rough on the Jackets.

The pinned comment on his most recent upload is _This guy plays like he’s never been within 100 miles of a hockey rink_ and its even been hearted by Larks himself, which is probably the best part of it all. 

Like, if it wasn’t for the edit under the original text of the comment that reads _ETA: oh fuck_

 

 

So, yeah, Larks is kind of charming. That’s one way to put it at least. 

And apparently, ribbing Zach has been a trend on his channel for a while now. For a guy with just under a million subs, Zach’s not sure why he hasn’t heard about him until Seth intrusively sent him the original text with the link. Which, he actually gets another text from next week.

 **seth🤪🤙 - 1h ago**  
NEW UPLOAD FUCKER

It’s on his home screen once he gets back from a run, and Zach isn’t sure how to take the fact that he just _knows_ what Seth’s talking about. Especially without any context behind it.

He sighs and clicks his phone open, going straight to Messages instead of the YouTube app.

 **zach - 2m ago**  
no. i’m allergic to wings fans 

**seth🤪🤙 - now**  
yeahhh that’s not what it looked like when u were giving him a virtual handjob in florida

 **zach - now**  
WATCHING HIS VIDEOS IS NOT A VIRTUAL HANDJOB 

**seth🤪🤙 - now**  
okay z whatever u say babey

Zach decides to leave Seth on read just to go on YouTube and scroll through his recommended for a little bit, pretending he isn’t going to inevitably land on Larks’ new video.

He gives in after a minute, because most of his recommended section is hockey, and a big part of hockey YouTube is _DBoss_. Because why wouldn’t it be. 

_how to crack the Blue Jackets roster in ten steps_ it’s titled, and Zach should probably be concerned because the thumbnail is the Jackeys logo photoshopped into a dumpster fire, but he goes for it anyways. 

“So you wanna get on the Jackets but you don’t have the time to actually get better at the game,” Larks starts. He’s standing in a rink on skates with a Red Wings hoodie hanging from his chest. Zach’s trying not to think about how good he looks.

“Well, buddy, I’m here to tell you that you can grab the entire Jackets organization by the balls with a little bit of determination and maybe some steroids,” he goes on, with clips of shootout goals cutting to Gritty falling over on the ice laid out on the screen. 

Zach’s honestly a little impressed, snickering when a flashy _#10_ pops up on the screen like a fucking WatchMojo video. 

“You wanna start by having the shortest temper known to man, we’re talking _short_ ,” he says. “You might call it anger issues, but I call it a beginning. Use your anger to intimidate as many opposing players as you can, to the point where veterans will never forget to teach their kids not to talk to strangers again.” 

“If you get as good at this as Dubinsky, Gary Bettman might actually jerk you off between intermissions,” Dylan says, like it’s common knowledge. He keeps a stoned over expression, and really, Zach has no idea how he manages.

Because once Zach’s at #1, his face hurts from smiling, and that’s when Larks drops a, “your final step is to forget everything you know about hockey. You’d think the key to getting in would be being good at the game, but on a team full of nothing but dusters, you’re out of luck. Growl at opponents and always aim for the head.”

He huffs out a little laugh and then stiffens up like he didn’t mean to, but his lips are still twitching upwards. “Do all that, and you’ll get drafted to the Blue Jackets in no time.”

Larks looks like he’s about to do his outro, and Zach’s about to click off the video, but he starts up again. 

It’s a little easier this time, his voice going sweet. “But seriously, if any of you guys out there are really trying to make it to the NHL and get drafted to your favourite team—our iconic Jackets—just remember to play with your life on the line,” he says. “Play as much as you can and show everyone that you’re just as good as them, if not better, when you’re competing for a spot with people multiple levels under your hockey IQ.”

He flashes the camera a little smile, and the camera cuts to his end card.

“Oh,” Zach says out loud. He’s really not sure how it’s possible for one person to be just that lovable, but Larks is doing it and Zach would be lying if he said he wasn’t into it.

 

 

 **seth🤪🤙 - 34m ago**  
boss has some sauce, ngl

 **zach - 11m ago**  
never say that to me again

 **seth🤪🤙- 11m ago**  
think someone’s a little jealous!

 **zach - 11m ago**  
i’m dumping u as a friend now

 **seth🤪🤙 - 11m ago**  
WAIT I DIDNT MEAN IT

 **zach - 11m ago**  
i’ll do it

 **seth🤪🤙 - 7m ago**  
Z

 **seth🤪🤙 - 4m ago**  
ZACH

 **seth🤪🤙 - 3m ago**  
ZACHARY

 **seth🤪🤙 - 1m ago**  
i’ll buy u dboss merch

 **zach - now**  
i might be reading this wrong but are you trying to get blocked??

 

 

Sunday morning, after the night of their win against Buffalo, Seth pulls him aside in the locker room with stars in his eyes. He looks ecstatic, like he just breathed in the same air as Martin Brodeur and fucking _mood_.

Except, it’s not that. Because, “love you, buddy,” Seth says, as he’s handing Zach a folded up hoodie. 

And Zach’s stomach drops when he straightens it out just to see _DB71_ stitched into it right over the chest. The font is scribbly, like it’s an autograph, and Zach hopes DB stands for dumb bitch.  
He’d honestly wear that before actually putting this on in front of Seth, especially because he knows exactly who that 71 belongs to.

“I told you not to,” Zach argues, while Seth is laughing his ass off and stepping away just to curb Zach’s efforts to give the hoodie back.

He raises his hands in defense, a shit-eating smile splitting his face. “I just thought you’d like it,” he insists. “Y’know, as our lord and saviour’s number one fan.”

“You’re the biggest dick on the planet.” 

“Try not to get too excited.” Seth’s still grinning over at him, and Zach can’t get much more than a _fuck off_ in before Seth really does fuck off to his own stall.

Zach looks down at the hoodie, examining it, and then shoves it in his bag. He hopes that didn’t look as suspicious as it felt.

 

 

Zach doesn’t own a single piece of YouTuber merch, so he has no idea what to do with his DBoss hoodie. Mostly since he wouldn’t let Seth catch him dead wearing it, and he’s not sure if going out in public with it on is a good idea either. Not because he’s embarrassed, but because Larks is way too well known in Columbus for him to actually get away without anyone recognizing it.

It’s funny too, that when Zach puts it on in his empty condo it fits really nicely. Seth isn’t the best at shopping for things that actually fit Zach without being off at least three sizes or something, so it’s entertaining that he got this of all things right. The DBoss hoodie. 

Zach wears it while he’s making dinner, his laptop perched on his kitchen’s island. 

Listening to a guy intone, “top shelf cheese,” or, “nice save, stud,” isn’t the kind of white noise he’s used to, but it’s Larks. 

It gets a smile out of him when he hears Larks say, “it’s probably never going to stop surprising me that we’ve got guys in the big leagues who can’t lift the puck properly.” A pause, and he almost knows what’s coming. “Werenski, I’m looking at you. Seen better hands on my phone’s clock.”

The pinned comment on this video is _you red wing bad_ and Zach still can’t read it without making a sound that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be a cross somewhere between a laugh and him choking on the air.

Larks replied _absolutely chief_ to it, and that was that. Which is actually kind of wholesome.

Zach realizes half the time he’s cooking up pasta for himself, he spends thinking about just how pretty Larks’ smile is, and decides he’ll switch the video to some music right after this one.

He never does.

 

 

The Blue Jackets fall to the Red Wings at home. They score three goals, but the Wings shoot past them to a solid five. The goals aren’t Bob’s fault as much as they are the entire team’s, especially since Coach yells at them for treating their tendy like shit two minutes after the game ends. 

They didn’t break much of a win streak, but this also doesn’t really help their case when it comes to the whole making the playoffs thing. It’s far too early in the season to say much about it, they’ve only played 11 games, but it still stings. 

And then—Zach just about instinctually checks his subscription box for a video from Larks, which he gets, and he’s gotta mentally prepare himself when he realizes it was uploaded just minutes ago. 

It’s an NHL 19 challenge video. Larks talks a lot during those.

Zach isn’t even sure if he has the right to act surprised when Larks starts the video by blowing a party horn, because that leads him right into excitedly talking about the game tonight, sprinkled along with little bits of him explaining the challenge he’s going to be doing. 

There’s a whiteboard behind him that reads _mike green is my daddy_ and Zach’s pretty sure that’s new.

“I’m getting cocky,” Larks says from his phone screen. “I gotta say, we couldn’t have done this without our boy Werenski, keep on fumbling those pucks, man. You’re a star.”

Probably for the fiftieth time, Zach takes the chirp with a little smile, but. 

He scrolls down to his description box just to check out whether or not he’s got any other social media, and he’s a little surprised he hasn’t done this yet when he lands on links for his Instagram and Twitter accounts.

Zach probably shouldn’t do anything, especially because nobody gave him the fucking permission. But like. Tweeting at him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, he’d just be replying. Get a little back and forth going, they’re both adults. Even if, on Larks’ part, Zach finds that difficult to believe. 

He tweets at him, nice and easy. Actually, he nearly drafts it before swallowing his nerves and just going for it.

 

 **zach werenski** @zackwerenski - 1m

@dboss71 ever gonna say anything to my face?

 

Zach just about instantaneously clicks his phone off and sets it face down against a table. He blinks at the wall for a minute at least, maybe its been two. He’s kind of nervous about this. He read the tweet over three times maybe, changed the wording twice, but he’s still not sure if it’ll come across how he meant it.

Twitter’s a grind and social interaction is the peak of adulthood, Zach’s just being mature. Not very well, but.

He gives it a few more minutes before going through the replies, most of them of people calling it Twitter beef or _tea_ which Zach still doesn’t understand, but hey. He’s finally feeling a little less tense when his gaze lands on a tweet from a _Dylan Larkin_ and he doesn’t really care until he sees his handle.

 

 **dylan larkin** @dboss71 - 2m

time and place, i’ll say loads

 

Really, Zach could totally keep at this over a thread, but private messaging and DM’s definitely exist. He’s not trying to involve the rest of the world in this—whatever it is. 

So. 

He kind of slides into Dylan’s dm’s and, like, why wouldn’t he, right. The guy asked for a time and place, it’d only be fair. He sends him a quick, _were u serious?_ and chews on the inside of his lip as he waits for a response.

 **dylan larkin**  
listen i’m just a little psyched out that zach werenski’s in my Twitter dm’s but yeah. guess i was 

**zach werenski**  
well ukno i could arrange that, how do front row seats to a game sound? columbus plays detroit in a week👀

 **dylan larkin**  
oh my god

 **dylan larkin**  
i’m dreaming

 **zach werenski**  
i think u meant “buddy ur shot’s broke”??? typo???

 **dylan larkin**  
oh yeah. autocorrect ;)

Zach swears he feels his heart jump into his throat, unable to do much more than stare at the notification for the message from Larks—or, well, Dylan, he guesses. God. It’s so much to take in, a few messages between them and Zach being bold enough to invite a resident Jackets hater to a game. Front row seats and everything. He’s going to _spoil_ him.

Not. Not in a romantic way, just to prove a point. To get him a picture perfect view of the Blue Jackets nailing home goals. Of course, what else would it be. 

It’s just that Zach falls asleep that night thinking about Dylan’s eyes, and his smile, and that fucking winky face that Zach wishes he could decipher. He even considers screenshotting their messages and sending them Seth’s way, but that would mean getting perpetually chirped, which is most definitely off limits.

Then again, _Dylan_ should be off limits, but Zach doesn’t really play by the rules.

 

 

“Someone needs to staple the NHL rulebook to Werenski’s head,” Dylan says in his next video, when video game Werenski slashes a Red Wing.

So, yeah, Zach really should figure out how to play by the rules.

 

 

A notification slides over his screen while he’s watching a music video, and Zach almost ignores it, but it sticks around long enough to catch his attention, at least.

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
DELETE YOUR TWITTER 

**zach - now**  
you’re a day late bud

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
i had training what did i miss

 **zach - now**  
dylan larkin has the prettiest eyes

 **zach - now**  
also he’s coming to our game on monday get FUCKED

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
bitch where

 **zach - now**  
you physically cannot tell me i’m not smooth. ever again. it’s illegal in 50 states

 **seth🤪🤙 - now**  
everything u touch dies

His phone buzzes with something else while Zach’s typing up a response, and he catches a glimpse of the Twitter DM flag before it slides back up into the top of his screen. 

It’s Dylan, he figures out once he gets on Twitter. Zach swears he can hear his pulse beat in his ears, humming like a motor.

 **dylan larkin**  
hey you should probably text me, dm’s will always be the worst way to communicate 

**zach werenski**  
sure! send over ur number when u can

Zach’s still a little overwhelmed by the idea that he’s expected to actually text Dylan first when he gets his number, so he spends a good bit of his day trying to think of something to text him that’s at least a smidge more creative than _hey_. He blames being away to personal training and Dylan doesn’t believe it for a second, but that’s why Zach likes him. He’s hard to get. 

Especially as a Blue Jacket coming onto a Wings fan. He’s not sure what he was expecting. 

 

 

Dylan’s in his seat before they get out for warm ups. He’s smiling so wide it’s in his eyes, like the joy’s trying to flood out through more than just the curve in his lips. Zach can’t help but smile at him from across the ice, and then gets a little knock on the hip from Seth. 

“Try to be a little less obvious,” Seth cautions, but it’s a lot more mocking than it is a bona fide warning. Zach’s almost sure of it.

“Obvious of what.”

Seth skates a lazy circle around him, catching the puck that’s flung to his stick. “I don’t know,” he says, and then, “Here, pretty-eyed boy, I know you hate me, but come watch me play professional hockey.”

Zach rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t even what happened,” is the most he can get out before lifting Seth’s stick and stealing the puck right out from under it. “His team’s here, asshole. It’s a good deed.” 

“Yeah, sure, it’s only a good dead if you don’t get anything in return,” Seth argues, his gaze going judgmental as he hits him with a once over.

Zach’s blanking. “What?”

Seth does the universal sign for a handjob, pumping the air with his fist, and Zach immediately retreats to slapping his arm back down to his side

“Fuck you, I hope the camera saw that,” Seth snaps, but his grin’s only growing more obnoxious by the second. 

“I hope you get benched.”

“I hope you get scratched.” 

Zach pauses, just to smile. “I hate you.”

 

 

He skates up to the glass where Dylan is right when a TV break starts up, knocking on it. “Hey,” he greets, loud enough that it gets through, and Dylan still looks starstruck, enough that he offers Zach a smile. “How’s my playing?”

“Could be better,” Dylan says smugly, even if the Jackets are winning. The guy’s got a lot of faith. 

“Harsh.” Zach’s supposed to look a little affronted, but he knows it won’t show on his face. Not without coming through paired with endeared and pleased.

“Can’t let you get too comfortable.” Dylan shakes his drink at Zach like he’s offering, and Zach just laughs.

“You’re too much,” he tells him, heading back to the bench. Just not without passing Dylan a puck. He doesn’t usually play favourites, but. Maybe it’s the look on Dylan’s face that gets him, the disbelief that this is actually happening, and that’s what Zach isn’t sure he’s going to be able to ever get enough of. 

It’s the same look fans’ll make when they gets sticks, or gloves, or jerseys, but it’s almost accentuated when it’s with Dylan. Like you could entertain him with any little thing.

And it’s almost makes his heart ache to remind himself that it’s _him_. He’s doing that.

Like, “holy fuck,” he hears Dylan say when the puck lands in his hands.

And all Zach can do is smirk at him, asking him, “not bad now, yeah?”

He wonders if it’s just the lighting when he sees Dylan’s cheeks colour underneath his snapback, blooming into soft pinks. Zach tries not to think about whether or not his skin is hot to the touch, or if Dylan knows it’s happening, even as he’s passing Zach a confident smile. “You’re really trying, huh.”

“Damn straight,” Zach says.

 

 

They beat the Wings 7-5 in regulation and it’s about as brutal as that sounds, but Dylan doesn’t even look deterred which is just amazing to Zach. He flashes Zach a thumbs up as they’re skating off the ice, probably as a nod to his assist. Zach feels gleeful, and relieved, and warm all over and that doesn’t help tone it down. Not at all. 

Seth whistles as they walk into the locker room, and Luc’s the one to jump in front of them to ask, “who was that guy in the stands? The one Zach was trying to get with the _entire_ game?” 

“What—“

“Right?” Seth interrupts. “That was Larks. Or I guess, DBoss. But it’s Dylan to Zach because they’re close.” He grins wide. “Real close.”

Despite actually receiving an explanation, it’s from Seth, so Luc still looks pretty confused. His brows pinch together. “What’s a DBoss.”

Zach shrugs. “No idea.”

“Oh, Z could tell you all about him,” Seth says unhelpfully. “Just wait for practice tomorrow.”

Zach shoves past him to get to his stall. Luc still looks perplexed, like he barely knows where he is, and Seth’s laughing at his own joke hard enough that Zach thinks he might pass out cold. At least then they’d get some peace and quiet. 

His phone buzzes in his bag then. It’s soft, muffled under clothing, but Zach still catches it quick enough to pull it out while Seth’s saying something unintelligible to Luc.

It’s a text. From Dylan.

 **dyl larks - now**  
played a strong game🎉

 **zach - now**  
yeah?? i can tell u all about it:) wanna grab a bite?

It might be pushing. Part of him thinks he’s taking this a little too far. They barely _know_ each other, but they, like. Know each other. Just not personally. This would be a good chance to talk like actual humans and not just a way for Zach to spend a little more time with Dylan before the night ends.

He turns down the brightness of his screen, because even if he can barely read the texts at the lowest setting, nobody else will be able to come close.

 **dyl larks - now**  
oh yeah man sure, my car or yours?

 **zach - now**  
i can pick mine up later dw i’ll come out to the front once rush clears out a little

 **dyl larks - now**  
hahaha this is columbus, rush has been cleared for ages now

 **zach - now**  
who got that dub again??🥇

He’s smiling by the time he slides his phone back into his bag, and—yeah, this is gonna be good.

 

 

There are only a few cars left in the lot when Zach pushes the door open, but he can see Dylan leaning against one of the trucks a little closer to the front entrance and figures he’s waiting for him. 

“Shocking that you stuck around,” Zach comments, walking around the car to get to the passenger side. 

“Hey, I’m a man of my word,” Dylan says when he pulls open the car door and slips in his side, settling into the seat.

“I mean, I feel like I recall you saying the Wings would win, but that didn’t really happen, did it?” Zach smiles at him. “Man of your word, yeah?” 

“That doesn’t count, I wasn’t prepared for the one assist wonder.” Dylan passes him a lazy smile while he starts up his truck, letting the engine roar to life. It’s smooth, and Zach isn’t a car enthusiast, but _fuck_. 

Dylan pulls off his Red Wings jersey, hanging it over the back of Zach’s seat with a little smile, like he’s _trying_ to get on Zach’s nerves. But what actually gets under his nerves is how tight the hoodie he’s wearing is on his upper arms. So much that Zach can almost see them flex, as he’s reaching, and Zach’s stomach flips enough that he’s gotta force himself to look away. 

“You know, I’d wear it all night, but I don’t wanna drive you crazy,” Dylan fills in, while he’s getting on the road. The terrain is flat underneath them, and Dylan lets Zach fiddle with his presets until he lands on something that sounds a little like alternative hip-hop.

“So considerate,” Zach offers. “Where we headed?”

“Cool Italian place nearby. Used to go there all the time when I first moved here,” he says. “It’s nice, I think you’ll like it. Y’know, if you haven’t been there already.” 

Zach tries not to think about just how sweet all of that was just now and instead locks his eyes to the road, admiring the silent blur of lights that passes by them. The city is gold in colour, glittering lamps dotting the streets as they maneuver further into downtown.

“When _did_ you move here?” Zach asks.

“Not long before starting up my channel,” Dylan says, his laugh coming out a little breathy. “Got called a bandwagon a lot because the boys kept making the playoffs and I was cheering for them from Columbus. A little tough.” 

Zach laughs. He still hasn’t watched Dylan’s older videos, what he’s guessing is nothing but grainy footage of him dicking around with his buddies. “Gotta check out those earlier ones, then. Bet they’re classics.”

“Hey, how many of my videos have you actually seen?” Dylan glances over at him as they roll to a stop in front of a red light. “Gotta ask just so I know for sure how deep of a grave I’m in.”

Zach can feel the tips of his ears burning up, because how is he supposed to say _most of them_ without sounding like an idiot. It’s a little impossible for him to actually be genuine without seeming stupid, but. “A lot,” he blurts out, his voice small. “Like, all your recent uploads. And. Then some more.” 

Dylan blinks at him, and there isn’t enough time between the look he gives Zach to when he starts driving again for Zach to actually read his expression, but it feels like a tense weight on his chest.

“No fucking way,” he says, and there’s glee in his voice, something tiny at the back of his throat that Zach is eternally grateful he can hear. “Honestly? You’re not kidding.”

“I literally binged your entire challenge playlist, like a dumbass,” he says honestly. “Seth linked me to one of your GoPro videos where you trashed me and the Jackets to shit and—well, I was hooked. Thought it was funny.” 

“No way,” Dylan reiterates, and he passes Zach this wide-eyed glance. His lips are curled upwards, just the slightest bit. Zach thinks Dylan might not even be aware of it. “Man, I talk a lot of shit but do you have any idea how cool that is?” 

Zach laughs sheepishly because he can feel his embarrassment growing under his skin, spreading and spreading, and he isn’t too sure what else to do. “Seth, uh,” he starts, “um, bought me some merch actually. One of your hoodies.” 

Dylan looks like Zach’s just fed him the fattest fucking lie out there, in immediate disbelief like there’s no way, but. “Holy shit.” 

“Yeah, holy shit, that’s what I thought when he pulled it out in the locker room,” Zach says. “And, I mean. It fits like a glove, so I wear it. I can’t _not_.”

Dylan blows out a little laugh, and it sounds as sweet as they come, smooth, smooth, smooth as it rolls off his tongue. “Guess I gotta start repping Team Werenski now, right? I don’t mind.”

“I still can’t believe _I’m_ the running joke on your channel and not Seth. I told him the exact same thing,” Zach says, glancing over at Dylan. Not for long, because the lights are catching his features just right, enough that it makes Zach’s heart stutter. That shouldn’t happen. Not here. 

“Jones is funny,” Dylan says kindly, and knocks his arm lightly against Zach’s ribs. “And usually I’d support a Michigan boy, but. Columbus.” 

A new message pops up on his phone. It’s a picture of Seth and Luc cheesing at the camera. The caption’s just a _have fun with your guy_ , and Zach’s gotta pretend that doesn’t make his chest clench. 

“Yeah, Seth’s pretty funny,” Zach says dismissively. “Almost as funny as all those jokes you make about the Jackets sucking.”

“Not jokes,” Dylan says, faux serious. “Fact.”

 

 

The inside of the restaurant Dylan takes him to is warm and friendly, like something corporate trying to look family-owned. There’s a mural on the wall that’s really just a map of Italy with iconic landmarks sprinkled throughout, and every table is sheathed in a soft white table cloth. 

Zach’s almost surprised Dylan, of all people, is familiar with a place this nice looking, something barely just a step down from a candle lit dinner, but he’s trying not to let his head go there. If anything, he’s trying his hardest just to enjoy this and his time with Dylan without worrying about the knowing look the lady who seats them gives out. 

Dylan’s more than occupied with telling Zach about the time his dog chewed through all of his jerseys, rather than worrying about just how much this doesn’t look like a place two buddies would go to. And for dinner, too—fuck. Zach’s definitely overthinking it, but it’s almost impossible not to. 

“The thing is, its happened way more times than I can count. She _hates_ me,” Dylan tells him, tapping his fingers against the table. “But I mean, I love her.”

“I love it when she shows up in your videos,” Zach says. He thinks back to Dylan looking picture perfect, playing around with his dog, and what the fuck kind of mental torture is that supposed to be. “I mean, she really steals the show, doesn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dylan nods enthusiastically, a smile hanging loosely from the corners of his lips. Zach almost wants to reach out and hold his hand. “At this point, everyone’s staying subbed just for her. At least I got you.” 

“Yeah,” Zach says, and gives him a wry smile.

Dylan launches off into another story. As much as his, “oh, that reminds me,” is a complete non sequitur, Zach’s glad he doesn’t have to do much talking during it.

 

 

Zach posts a picture of Dylan sipping his water while flashing the camera a thumbs up to his Instagram story, tagging Dylan’s account and throwing in a couple food related emojis. Nothing romantic, just to really drive that point home.

The text he gets from _Luc_ , this time, is almost immediate. 

**luc🍁 - now**  
we get it ur dating. this is kind of offensive to the rest of us 

**zach - now**  
have i ever told u that seth is a terrible influence on u

 **luc🍁 - now**  
DBOSS😤💪💪💪

“Sorry, it’s just Luc,” Zach says to an expectant looking Dylan. “Uh, Dubois.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Dylan says, gesturing to him with his fork. “You’re all smiley.”

“Oh—“

“Don’t worry, it’s a good look on you.” It comes out so easily that Zach almost doesn’t register it, especially because Dylan casually takes a bite of his pasta right after. Like he isn’t flipping Zach’s entire world upside down. 

“Thanks,” he says, trying to sound calm. It’s not calm. Dylan doesn’t mention it, because he’s actually a really nice person. That’s one thing Zach’s learned tonight.

Some other things he’s learned: Dylan’s got more stories about his dog than Zach’s got about his team, and with Seth as a teammate that should be impossible. When Dylan’s laughing uncontrollably, he does it hard enough that his whole face goes this pretty shade of red, which—Dylan blushes easy. Really easy. He also grew up in Michigan playing baseball, and switched to hockey when he inevitably grew bored of it. 

And he’s a beer league ringer, which Zach definitely already knew. He’s seen enough of his videos to know Dylan could be good enough for ECHL hockey. 

There’s not much Zach can tell Dylan in return that isn’t already out there except for embarrassing stories, which definitely make do, because he’s got Dylan on the brink of spitting out his water by the end of the night. 

“How does _anyone_ come back from calling their captain dad,” Dylan asks, looking incredulous. 

“I don’t even know, man, Nick still rips at me for it,” Zach’s saying, as their waitress comes over with their cheque. 

And, like, Dylan is _very_ insistent about paying, which he doesn’t because Zach manages to get him to back off just long enough to swipe his card. Dylan pops out his bottom lip like a child, but he offers him a soft _thanks_ as they’re leaving. Zach shouldn’t be thinking about the way their hands occasionally brush and just how much closer together they are than they’d been when they’d initially came in, but. That’s exactly where his mind’s going, shaken loose by the deepening hours of the night and still so, so fired up from that win. 

“Hey, you wanna come over?” Zach asks. “I’ve got ‘chel and food.” 

Dylan holds the door open for him as they step outside, the breeze going cold when it nips at the tips of Zach’s ears. He shudders, and then Dylan’s right back next to him. Warm and sturdy and _there_. “Sounds tempting,” he says. “You sure? No practice tomorrow, or what’s the occasion?”

“Nah, optional skate in the morning, but that doesn’t really matter,” Zach tells him, like he’s trying to sell the idea of hanging out just a little longer like a pitch.

“Alright, man, let’s do it,” Dylan says, friendly, and Zach feels like he’s on top of the world. 

 

 

Zach gets to see multiple different versions of Dylan, getting used to him so quick that it feels like they’re no less than childhood friends. Dylan’s got this competitive side, a sweet side, a shy side, and it’s mashed up into something perfect. Like a box of chocolates—Zach’s never sure what he’s gonna get. 

They play NHL 19 for long enough that Zach’s half asleep while spinning around Red Wings defense. 

It’s not a surprise that Dylan’s much better than him at the game, he strings together dekes like he does it as a career and, like, that _is_ part of his channel, so in a way, it’s a big part of his job at least. 

The virtual Red Wings beat the Blue Jackets way more times than Zach can count, but he manages to beat Dylan when he ultimately switches to team Canada, which—“That goes against literally everything either of us have ever believed in.” 

Zach says, “tell that to this guy’s _aim_ ,” he says, shooting in a perfect one-timer. Smoking the Red Wings with Team Canada has never really been on his bucket list, but if it was, he’s doing a pretty good job of it. 

Sometime later, Zach feels a twinge or guilt in his stomach when he glances over to see that Dylan’s concentrated face has melted into something mellow and sleepy, his eyelids fluttering. 

And, “hey, if you’re tired, you can stay the night? I don’t mind,” he offers, like they really have known each other forever. He’s not really expecting Dylan to agree, but he’s got a guest room and it’s been empty for ages so really, nothing’s stopping him. 

“I don’t wanna be a burden,” Dylan admits weakly, even if with the way he yawns into his hand, Zach’s not really going to trust him to drive back home. 

“It’s all good, c’mon.” He reaches for the TV remote, clicking it off. “I’ll show you to the guest room.” 

Dylan nods his head, nearly stumbling as he gets up off the couch. 

 

 

From Zach’s spot in the kitchen at his island, where he’s pouring cereal into a bowl, he gets the perfect view of Dylan walking tiredly in. His hair’s a mess, _Zach’s_ borrowed sweatpants slung low on his hips, and Zach’s trying his hardest to focus on his gross cardboard nutritionist approved cereal rather than how Dylan looks fucking gorgeous.

He’s never seen him like this, not during late night streams, or early morning videos, maybe because Dylan doesn’t think this qualifies as presentable. Which, like, Zach totally gets that. If he had to watch videos with Dylan looking like this, he’s probably lose his mind a lot quicker.

“G’morning,” Dylan mumbles, taking the water bottle Zach slides his way, and then, “sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a bit.” As if he’s a one night stand that accidentally spent the night over rather than just a guest. Zach shouldn’t be thinking about it that way, but his train of thought definitely gets away from him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zach tells him, watching Dylan’s throat work as he downs the water bottle. “Waking up to an empty place every morning is weird, this is a lot nicer.” 

Dylan chuckles, screwing the cap back on the bottle. Zach almost takes a bite of his dry ass cereal without pouring milk in. 

“You’ve got skate though, don’t you?” 

“Unfortunately,” Zach tells him, shoving his jug of milk back in the fridge. “Seth’s picking me up so I still have to wait for his lazy ass.” 

“Oh. I—I should probably go by then,” Dylan says, and there’s this faltering edge to his words that Zach really isn’t sure how to read.

“Huh?” He blinks at Dylan, drinks in his tightly woven expression, the tousled hair, his missing shirt, and the bruise sitting high on his oblique from hockey. Seth wouldn’t know it’s from hockey. He’d just. Assume— “Oh! _Oh._ ”

“Yeah,” Dylan laughs drily, his hand coming to the back of his neck. 

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s cool,” Zach insists, right before realizing he should probably word that differently. “I mean—uh, Seth never comes to the door. He won’t see.” Then he remembers the car in the driveway and Dylan looks a little like he remembers it, too. 

This isn’t a bad idea. Having Dylan over is friendly, but Seth knows things about Zach that Dylan doesn’t, like just how weak he is for that smile Dylan goes around flashing at absolutely everything. Or how Zach finds his voice soothing, or thinks his hockey is hotter than hell. Or just—this fucking _crush_ he’s got on the guy who tears at the Blue Jackets for a living. 

The guy shirtless in his kitchen at 8 in the morning, almost unshaken about being thought of as Zach’s one night stand. 

“I know I make jokes about Jackets being dumb, but no one’s _that_ dumb,” Dylan says, but he doesn’t really make a move to leave. Leaning his hip against the island. He’s a little closer to Zach now. 

“Seth is.” Zach takes a bite of his cereal, speaks around it, “and, like, what’s he gonna do? Out me?” 

“Right,” Dylan says, practically unfazed. “Getting outted just saves you the work. Like, _thanks_. Can definitely relate.”

“I mean.” Zach blinks. “Yeah.”

He wonders if he’s reading this wrong, the way Dylan doesn’t move away when Zach dips just slightly into his space, but they keep chatting, up until Zach’s phone buzzes and he has to go. 

 

 

“Who’s car is that,” Seth asks, looking out onto Zach’s driveway. 

“Dylan‘s,” Zach says, and fucks around with Seth’s music. 

“Larkin?”

“Yeah.”

Seth doesn’t press.

 

 

Except when he _does_ , which is when he excitedly skates up to Luc and practically screams, “guess who was at Z’s place this morning.”

“I don’t wanna guess—“

“Larks.” Seth shoots Zach a glance, who’s trying his best to keep a safe distance away, but he can still hear them both awfully clearly.

Luc’s jaw drops dumbly. “So we’re just out here being publicly thirsty, then,” he says, definitely in Zach’s direction. 

Fuck Zach. Seriously, fuck him and his entire life. 

 

 

“I think he might be gay,” Zach says, breaking the companionable silence that’d sank into Seth’s car. He waits until he’s almost home to say it, just so this conversation doesn’t last too long. “Dylan, I mean. Or at least—bi, or _something_. He practically came out to me in my fucking kitchen.”

“Uh.” Seth looks over at him, his eyes blowing wide, and then watching as his expression falls into something a little calmer. “Dude. Are you gonna get that dick, yes or no.” 

“I don’t even know if he’s into me,” Zach protests.

“Sure thing.” Seth impatiently taps his fingers against the wheel, waiting for the car in front of them to move. If they get stuck is traffic now, Zach has the worst luck in the world. “That’s why you went on a date with him, right?”

“That wasn’t anywhere near a date.

“You are just. Stupid,” Seth inserts helpfully. “That was one bouquet of flowers and an awkward good night kiss away from a date and you know it.”

Zach ignores that to say, “you’re the worst.”

“No, without me you’d probably be wallowing on your couch. You are so welcome.” Seth’s looking more than satisfied with that, and Zach rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might land in the back of his head. 

“Like, I said. The worst.”

 

 

 **dyl larks - 5m ago**  
hang out tonite? 

**zach - 2m ago**  
i’m sick as hell

 **dyl larks - now**  
shit man feel better ;(

 **dyl larks - now**  
ukno, i make sum banger soup 

**zach - now**  
u should show me. just so i can test that theory 

**dyl larks - now**  
ur def not ready for this

 

 

Having Dylan pressed up next to him on the couch with the TV playing isn’t something Zach thought he’d ever do, especially not with a bowl of soup in his lap and Dylan mumbling something about a virus going around. 

Dylan, who is perfectly healthy and cuddled up next to Zach after making him a bomb ass bowl of soup, and Zach really isn’t sure how to take this. Because it’s a little domestic. 

When he was watching Dylan get to work in his kitchen with a happy smile and a new video idea on his lips—that was, like, _really_ domestic.

“You should probably get home before you get sick,” Zach says, to the head settled on his shoulder. His voice is just on this side of raspy, it’s nothing to keep him off the ice, but he’d rather not let Dylan catch it. Considering you need your voice to film videos.

“Oh, right, you probably need rest—“ he sits up, making a move to wriggle off the couch, but Zach blurts out the quickest, “I don’t mind.”

It falls from his mouth before he even has the chance to think it over. There’s a second of silence between them, when Dylan’s expression goes from shocked to soft and he slips back in beside Zach. “Cool,” he says, “I really like spending time with you.” He sounds a little embarrassed, like it’s hard to admit, and Zach guesses that really is the case.

“Go Blue Jackets?” 

“Not even once,” Dylan says, and looks up at Zach through his lashes. Zach wishes he didn’t catch his gaze, he _wishes_ he didn’t tip his head down to check, but he does. He catches the tiniest quirk in Dylan’s lips and a look that might just be somewhere near expectant, if Zach wasn’t completely crazy maybe. 

It’s a lot to unwrap. So he doesn’t. He just sucks in a breath and keeps his focus locked to the TV. 

 

 

“Because you’re sick, I’m literally not letting you eat anything but soup,” Dylan says. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Zach’s watching the red liquid he’s got in a pot bubble from over his shoulder, laughing. “You’re gonna be sick in no time, then we’ll see,” Zach tells him, nearly stumbling back when Dylan turns around against the stove to face him.

This is really the only time Zach has ever taken note of the tiniest height difference between them, that barely-there inch that feels like so much more when they’re this close. Much closer than they should be.

Dylan raises his eyebrows at him, almost like a challenge, and Zach isn’t sure whether he’s referencing the getting sick thing or just. This. It’s harder now to keep from training his attention to the way his gaze flicks around, or the imprint in his cheek from the couch, or just how pink his mouth is.

Zach’s taller. Zach’s taller and yet he feels so small. He lets his lips part just slightly, but nothing comes out. 

Not until Dylan says, “hey, I don’t know if I’m, like, totally off about this, but—“ he doesn’t finish that, lets it settle in the air for a second, and Zach almost nods his head anyways. “I’m just. I don’t know. Would it be cool if I kissed you?”

He _does_ nod his head this time, it’s stupid. The option to just go in for the kiss instead is there, but he wants to let Dylan build it up. He wants to watch Dylan lean in, to see him bridge the gap between them.

He does. Zach watches long enough that he nearly forgets to shut his eyes while he’s kissing Dylan and it almost comes as an afterthought, like, _close your eyes you idiot, that is not how any of this works._

Dylan’s hand finds his waist, and then it lands on his arm, sliding down just to waver over his hand. Zach ends up holding on, entwining their fingers.

He’s kissing Dylan against the stove in his kitchen. He’s sick. The TV in the living room is playing an obnoxious soundtrack. His sense of _anything_ isn’t really working and he probably looks like a mess right now. This isn’t at all how Zach expected this to go, but somehow, it’s just as good. Because the only thing he really needs to make this perfect is right here. Dylan.

When they eventually part, Zach doesn’t step away. Dylan doesn’t let go of his hand. They’re quiet, and his eyes are searching Dylan’s expression for _something_ , and then.

“Oh fuck, the soup,” Dylan hisses abruptly, quickly turning back around to lift the pot up off the element, switching off the stove frantically. 

Zach watches him stir the pot and make sure nothing went wrong, but Dylan turns back after a moment and passes him a smile. So he’s guessing that means they’re okay. 

“I’m, uh, that was really nice. I think,” Zach tells him, a man of his words. 

“You think.” Dylan laughs like he isn’t sure what else to do, like he doesn’t know _how_ to do anything else. “Yes. Yeah, I agree. You always know just what to say.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Zach protests, feeling a tiny frown tug at his lip, even if that bridge has been long crossed.

Dylan laughs, leaning in to peck another kiss on the corner of his lips. Zach isn’t sure if he should feel bad about having to tuck away the urge to chase after it. “It’s fine,” he says. “You should be making sure I _really_ get sick.” 

Zach can’t even help the smile that dances over his lips at that, practically impossible to fight back. “I can do that,” he says, and kisses Dylan again.

 

 

 **dyl💞 - 6m ago**  
why did i think i wasn’t actually gonna get sick

 **zach - 4m ago**  
welcome to the busted immune system club!

 **zach - 4m ago**  
i can’t make u soup sorry i never got any farther than pasta in home ec

 **dyl💞 - 4m ago**  
that’s okay my soup is clutch🔥

 **zach - 2m ago**  
yikesss not sure why i ever let u kiss me

 **dyl💞 - 2m ago**  
well. i could come over and remind you

 **zach - 2m ago**  
yeah?? look at that confidence......i’ll b waiting 

**dyl💞 - now**  
see you in a few ;)


End file.
